Old Habits
by alanwolfmoon
Summary: Charles and Erik went separate ways at the end of First Class, but it's a small world. Series of short, mostly H/C fics of them running into each other, and revisiting old habits.
1. Chapter 1

1Going their separate ways only meant so much. Their paths intersected so often, sometimes they were even trying to accomplish the same thing, especially when there was someone with an agenda against mutants. And, well, it was easy to fall back into old habits.

Charles shifted slightly, Erik's head heavy on his chest, but the other man's arm tightened around his torso, and buried his face firmly in Charles's neck. Charles had to smile, laying a hand on Erik's bare back, and rubbing up and down.

A soft, happy murmur came from the other man's throat, and Charles grinned, kissing the top of his dear friend's head.

It couldn't have been to long after, when Charles had drifted off, that a loud crash woke them both. Erik grunted, and flailed, panicking, confused by the tangle of limbs, Charles hurriedly calmed him, "Erik, you need to be quiet. Something's happening."

Erik blinked down at him, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. Charles pushed himself up, leaning against Erik's side, "I can sense someone in the hallway."

"They have a gun."

Charles frowned, entering the mysterious person's mind. Anger, a whirlwind of overwhelming anger...but very specific anger. At Erik. And a plot... other people, a group... he recognized the leader, a radical offshoot of an anti-mutant faction...

Gripping Erik's arm, he realized he was breathing quickly, upset by the images in the assassin's mind, "you need to get out of here, he's coming to kill you."

"With what? A metal bullet?"

"No. Trust me Erik, you need to run."

Erik glared at his non-explanation, but stood, "how exactly do you propose we leave without the use of the hallway?"

"You can get out by the fire escape. I can influence him, I'll be fine."

"We have our differences, Charles, but me leaving you behind with an assassin isn't about to become one of them."

Charles glared, "I told you I'll be fine. Get out, I can't stop him from killing you, he's too angry."

"Oh, so you wouldn't be fine."

"He's angry at you, not at me."

Erik's strong arms lifted him, he pushed away at the other man's shoulder, "stop it, Erik. You need to run."

The door banged open, and they were suddenly traveling through a window, and down the metal steps of the fire escape. Charles held on for dear life, and buried his face in his friend's neck, "this was a bad idea."

A gun fired above them, he tightened his grip even further, if possible, "Erik, please, put me down."

Erik only ran faster. It wouldn't be fast enough, not with the man behind them, still shooting. Suddenly, Erik went down, both of them landing hard. Charles gripped frantically at his friend's collar, pinned by the other man's body weight, "Erik!"

Erik groaned, Charles searched every part of him he could reach, finding blood on his back, shoulder... there, the wound was right on his shoulder blade. Erik's muscles bunched, Charles knew he was going to try and get up, the man was right above them, Charles stared up at his hate-filled eyes...and suddenly he was looking back down, at his own slack face, and Erik's straining body. He looked down at the gun in his hand, the plastic bullets...

The man's anger rose up, he struggled, fought, he needed to keep him down, he needed Erik to be safe. The man raised his gun, Charles's was caught by surprise, the bullet entering his, the man's skull.

The pain was horrendous. His throat felt raw as he screamed, he was being held down by strong arms, his fingernails dug into flesh, he could not see, the pain was too intense. He coughed, liquid had entered his mouth, it tasted disgusting, he screamed again, arching against the pain, out of his mind, gone.

Charles opened his eyes, slowly, groggily. Fingers were carding through his hair with the utmost gentleness, an arm was across his chest, the arm was bleeding from four small wounds in a row. Charles ached like he'd just run a marathon. He stiffly lifted his hand, fingertips reaching the arm in a jerky motion.

"Charles?"

He unsealed his lips by licking them, clearing his throat. It hurt, a lot, and he tried to speak, but was far too hoarse.

"Inside, then."

He closed his eyes, and spoke to his dear, dear friend, "I hurt you."

"No, Charles." He could feel the warmth of his friend's look, knew it was okay.

"You've been shot."

"Only a little."

He felt dizzy, even lying down, and his upper lip itched. He wiped at it, partially dried blood smeared his hand. He frowned, staring at it. Erik held a hanky in front of his nose, wiping gently, until the blood was cleared away, "how can you be only a little bit shot?"

"It's very shallow. I'll be perfectly fine."

Charles gave much less protest when Erik lifted him again, resting his head heavily against the other man's shoulder, "I've never felt this exhausted. I've felt people die before, I held Shaw in place while you killed him."

"He didn't die."

Charles frowned in surprise, and confusion, "what?"

"The man, there. He just started writhing around, you wouldn't come back. For almost an hour, you were inside him, while he bled to death"

Charles closed his eyes, utterly spent, and miserable, "I don't remember."

"That's probably just as well."

He must have passed out in Erik's arms, he woke to grunting sounds, and swearwords in other languages. Opening his eyes, Erik was lying beside him on the bed, with a mirror and a knife in the air above him, trying to remove the plastic bullet. Blood trickled from the wound, Charles couldn't stop staring.

He sat up, and laid a hand on his friend's lower back, croaking out, "let me."

Erik surrendered the knife when Charles's hand wrapped around the handle, and Charles deftly pried out the bullet, Erik grunted into the pillow. Charles set the bullet on the bedside table, and took the gauze Erik had beside him, taping it against the admittedly quite shallow wound. Plastic must not have had the penetration at long range that metal did.

"Are you alright?"

Erik nodded, and turned over, gripping Charles's arms, hard. Charles blinked at him in surprise, "Erik?"

"Stop scaring me."

Charles smiled, and laid an arm across his friend's chest, "I will try, dear friend. But listen, when I tell you I will be alright."

A smile, "you would never leave me."

"I'm stronger than you."

"No, you really aren't."

"Prove it."

Erik frowned, confused. Charles laid his head down, "but not today."

A laugh, and an arm wrapping firmly around his shoulders, holding him tight against the warm body of his friend.


	2. Old Habits 2

1

Calling Erik on the phone seemed a bit odd. But he was wearing his helmet–up to something Charles wouldn't like, then–and Charles really freaking needed him. When you needed someone to lift a crashed SR-71 out of the swimming pool where the fifteen year old hijacker had overshot her landing by about three hundred yards, there weren't too many other people who could get the job done.

Erik sounded distracted, and angry, and didn't immediately realize it was Charles on the line, he almost hung up, before Charles had a chance to say much of anything, "Erik. I need your help."

As far as he knew, he and Raven were the only people who called Erik by his first name. The other end of the line went silent for a moment, then, "Charles?"

"Yes, old friend."

"What is it?"

"It's not urgent, or anything, there's just not a whole lot of other people who could help."

"What do you need?"

"One of my students crashed the blackbird. I just need to get it into the repair bay."

A tired sounding laugh on the other end, then, "I'll be there tomorrow."

"Thank you so much, Erik."

The line cut off, Charles smiled, both amused, and very much looking forward to seeing Erik.

The next day came, and went, and Charles couldn't get ahold of Erik again. He found Raven with Cerebro, touched her mind, told her he was worried. She was worried as well, but she had no idea where Erik was, or what he had been up to.

It was another full day later, when one of the students knocked on his bedroom door, he shifted off the bed into the plain, manual wheelchair beside the bed, answering the door. It was one of the younger girls, she was practically hysterical, and not making a lot of sense. Eventually, he managed to calm her, and get out of her the information that there was a strange man at the door, bleeding and covered in blood.

Hurring to the front door, the elevator ride was excruciating. Pulling open the large oak slab, he found Erik standing there, just removing the helmet. Blood was dripping from his nose, and his clothes were splattered with more. He was propped up against the wall, he looked absolutely terrible. Charles reached out, Erik dropped the helmet, and gripped charles's hand with his violently trembling one.

Charles looked at the girl, "get Samuel."

She nodded, and ran off, still barefoot. Erik seemed to have hit the absolute limit of his endurance, as the girl left, his knees gave out, and he landed hard on the stone entrance. He managed to sit back up, and Charles helped lift him enough, that he was able to lean slightly awkwardly against Charles's shins, a shaking hand gripping the seat of the wheelchair, "hello, Charles."

"Erik..."

The girl, Sarah, returned, with a large young man, who lifted Erik with no problem, and carried him to the infirmary. Once the students had left, Charles, moved to Erik's side, laying a hand on his sweaty forehead, "what happened?"

"You wouldn't like the details, Charles. But only because it was dangerous."

Charles started unbuttoning his friend's bloodstained shirt, "you're right."

Erik managed a weak smile, but he seemed to be too exhausted to sit, instead Charles helped him roll onto his stomach, and went around to the other side, to pull his shirt off from there. Erik looked at him, cheek pressed against the mattress, blood still dripping from his nose, "I had to lift a building."

Charles frowned, "what... no, I know you won't tell me. And I promised not to look."

"I couldn't. My people were in danger."

"I'm sorry."

"You remember that night, with the fire, and chess, and scotch? And McTaggert walking in?"

Charles smiled a little, "honestly not all of it."

Erik laughed, tiredly, "me neither. But I remembered enough."


	3. Chapter 3

1

AN: These will get somewhat darker as the series progresses, this one isn't that much, but the next one has some darker themes and uncomfortable conversations.

His phone rings, while he's asleep. Rolling over, he stuffs his face into the pillow. The phone keeps ringing. Then it stops. Then it starts again. He pulls the phone to his hand so hard it would probably leave a bruise on his palm, "what?"

"Um, hi. Sorry if you were asleep." A calm, relatively deep voice, with a definite southern drawl.

"I was. Who is this?"

"Dr. Harold Henderson."

Erik frowned. He hadn't seen Mystique in two days, though that wasn't anything unusual.

"A man was brought into my ER, collapsed lung, few other injuries, car crash during this storm we're having. This number was listed as his emergency contact, as well as the one he gave for both his next of kin."

"Name?"

"Charles Xavier."

Erik frowned, "why isn't he calling me himself?"

"He just got here a few minutes ago, they're still stabilizing him. Usually we'd wait a bit longer to make calls, but..." his voice got a lot quieter, "I"m an empath, I can tell he's a mutant. I just need to know if there are any tests that will show up on. I can keep it quiet, but the deep south isn't exactly the most open minded of places, and I need to know..."

"He's a telepath. Anything with brain activity would be abnormal, but everything else besides genetics should be fine."

"He doesn't have any head injuries, so that shouldn't be a problem. Will you be coming down?"

"I...can't, not right away." He was surprised how frustrated he was by that, but he really couldn't, they had an operation scheduled for tomorrow they'd been putting together for weeks, "but if he's there more than two days, I can."

"He probably will be, his injuries are fairly severe. Mostly he'll need to be on oxygen for at least that long."

"Then I will be there, as soon as I can. Probably by night Friday."

The plane ride was uneventful, As they got closer to their destination, he could start to feel Charles in his mind. By the time he landed, Charles didn't have to strain to touch him, though they were still too far for conversation. The drive south was boring, until, finally, "Erik."

Charles felt so _warm_, there was no doubt that the other man was very glad he was coming, though he also felt exceedingly tired, "Charles. Why are you in Alabama?"

"I had to speak with someone, face to face."

"Did you manage that before you decided to make closer friends with a tree?"

"Yes. I was heading back to the airport."

Just talking with Charles was making him sleepy, he frowned, "are you trying to make me join you in the hospital?"

"No, I'm sorry. They gave me a lot of pain medication."

No wonder Charles's responses had been so formal, he was trying not to be completely loopy.

"Go to sleep. I'll be there in an hour or so."

A wave of warm affection came back to him, and then the contact faded to just a small, warm corner of his mind, as Charles succumbed to sleep.

Walking into the hospital room, he found Charles completely insensate, face buried in the pillow, an IV going into the back of his hand. Erik checked the label–morphine. This would be interesting.

Laying a hand on Charles's back, he smiled, at the immediate strength of the connection–though the pull was so insistent, he nearly fell asleep right there, at Charles's side. The other man stirred, though, as Erik pulled at him, and finally he opened sleepy blue eyes, "mmm, Erik?"

"Here."

A somewhat loopy smile, and Charles reached out, latching onto a fistful of his shirt, "glad you're here."

Erik eased onto the edge of the bed, pulling a piece of fuzz out of Charles's hair, "you look like hell."

"Don't feel like it. Feel like bubbles."

Erik stared at the other man. Charles patted his stomach, twice, and then seemed to fall back to sleep entirely. Erik couldn't help but be amused.

Charles on morphine is amusing, he doesn't make much sense, and his earnestness is very endearing. But he's also not got much in the way of control, and when he's dozing, it's all Dr. Henderson can do to keep the other people in the hospital awake.

Erik is not going to tell his friend that he's endangering other people, especially because he's got two broken ribs, and without the pain medication, that will hurt like hell. And while it's technically probably sooner than would normally be a good idea, Henderson discharges Charles, and Erik takes him to a motel, where they both sleep for nearly a full day, until Charles wakes up in pain, and Erik gives him the oral meds Henderson prescribed, and they head out as soon as they take effect.

"Do you like bananas?"

Erik blinked, and glanced at his friend, as they drove. Charles still looked sleepy, in the front passenger seat of Erik's rental car, watching Erik drive.

"They're...fine."

"Strawberries are better."

"I agree."

Charles nods, yawning, wincing as he does so, and pressing a hand to his side, "dammit."

"This is why we don't crash into trees, Charles."

"Oh, shut it."

Erik grinned.

Charles is a complete lightweight when it comes to narcotics. He's not for alcohol, Erik knows that for sure, but opiates are apparently a different matter, as Charles is on codeine, and his train of thought still very closely resembles some sort of carnival ride with an above average number of twists and turns.

Driving all the way back up to New England with him has been quite an experience, and Erik is getting a bit sick of it, to tell the truth. There's no way it would be safe for Charles to ride in a plane, even on a much lower dose, he still makes Erik feel sleepy, and traveling would be way too painful without the pain meds. So they keep driving, and Erik doesn't wake Charles up when he falls asleep.

Delivering Charles to the mansion, he winds up just standing outside and knocking on the door, their professor sound asleep in his car. A woman with white hair opens the door, and stares at him, "yes?"

He knows Charles called to say he was hurt, but on his way back, and that everything was fine, but other than that, he hasn't been to communicative to his students.

She looks upset, and haggard, and seems impatient.

"I think I have something of yours."

She frowns, raising an eyebrow. He jerks his thumb at the car, "your Professor."

She walks past him, to the car, and leans down to look in the window. Charles is fast asleep against the window. She turns around, "you drove him here?"

"From Alabama."

Carrying his sleeping friend into the mansion, he feels a lot less annoyed. Now that he isn't stuck with him anymore, the past week seems a lot more amusing. They've been seeing an awful lot of each other, and maybe they're just not built for that. At least, Erik isn't.

Though, he's still just the tiniest bit remorseful, as he leaves his closest friend to the care of a crowd of strangers, even if they are Charles's students and friends.


	4. Chapter 4

1AN: The Darwin and Havoc bit is because when I dragged my brothers to X-men, one of them, knowing nothing about the universe, or the characters, or really even what the movie was, thought it was glaringly obvious that Darwin and Havoc were a couple. He was pissed when they killed Darwin...and then I informed him that the whole movie was about an even more glaringly obvious couple.

Raven is the one who calls him, upset, and worried, and not really knowing who else Erik can trust. It's been months since he's even heard from Eric, and two years since he's seen the other mutant. And apparently he's been getting himself into trouble, as Raven is calling to ask if he can get Erik out of the government test facility he's been put in.

She's right to be worried. Charles knows how upset Erik must be, how traumatic that would be for him. Charles flies to Nevada immediately, makes all the guards to go sleep, finds his old friend sitting in a plastic cell, miserable, terrified, and so angry Charles can't even touch his mind, has to put up shields against it.

Erik doesn't even seem to notice here's there, until Charles unlocks the door to the cell. Then he looks up, slowly, and seems completely lost for a moment, before recognition lit his face. Standing, he walked out with Charles, silent, hand gripping Charles's shoulder so hard Charles was sure it would leave bruises.

Even through his shields, Charles can feel the anger, the fury, the pain rising, becoming a maelstrom of misery and hate. He tells Scott to take off, get far away, forces all the men who were guarding the facility to flee, and takes Erik's hand. Erik stares down at him, then grips, hard, tears staring to roll down his face. Charles slides onto the ground, pulling, until Erik follows him, sitting, burying his head in Charles's chest, sobbing, as everything metal anywhere close gets ripped up, pounded, smashed, torn apart.

Charles realized, dimly, that again, he was going to end up being carried, as the wheelchair had entered the storm of metal flying about. That was getting rather old.

Erik pounded the hard, dry, rocky ground, Charles gripped his hands wrists, "stop, stop it. You'll hurt yourself."

A miserable, hateful laugh, "you made them leave, didn't you?"

"That facility wasn't just experiments. Most of the people were doctors. Real, good, well-meaning doctors."

"Then you should have let them go."

"I do not pretend to have the qualifications to know who should live and who should die."

"They should have died."

The destruction was staring to subside, bits of detritus falling from the sky. Erik didn't seem to be paying much attention to where anything landed, Charles buried his face in the top of his friend's head, shielding him as best he could. Slowly, all the twisted, mangled scraps of metal fell to the earth, only a couple striking them, and nothing too big.

Everything eventually stilled, there was virtually nothing left of the facility. Charles sighed, and didn't move, only sliding his hand up to start gently smoothing Erik's hair, as the other man cried. The anger was fading, now, leaving bitter hate, and sickening violation.

Erik stood, stumbled a few feet away, and threw up.

Charles watched, worried, and saddened. Eventually Erik came back, and sat down, trembling, but in control of himself once more, "I don't feel well."

"I'm sorry."

Erik leaned against him, "who called you?"

"Raven. She was worried."

"Do you think she knew?"

"No. I don't think she really even knew about that sort of thing. She wouldn't have seen anything but what we showed. I mean, she never noticed Darwin and Havoc."

"They were a bit more subtle. And by a bit, I mean a lot."

Erik nodded, sighing. He was still shaking.

"Charles?"

"Yes?"

"I wish they hadn't started this. I don't like it."

"Then stop. The only way the cycle stop is if someone is the better man. And I know you have it in you to be that man."

"I don't. You do, Charles. You've never known the same kind of hate."

"I have."

"Not in the same way."

"No," agreed Charles, sadly, "no, not in the same way."

"I envy you, the ability to forgive."

"I'm sorry. I am so very, very sorry."


	5. Chapter 5

AN: The chapter after this is much lighter-and much longer : )

He was not expecting to feel the touch, here, his friend's mind, warm, calm,...but not today. Today he was in pain, and upset, and feeling loss, deep, deep loss. One of his students?

Following the contact, he ignored his own team's confused looks, heading off in the completely wrong direction, despite the fact they'd already finished their mission. Charles was in the room of the man he'd just killed's office.

"Did you know him?"

Charles looked up, shook his head, "he was the same as you, Erik. I wanted to help him. I wanted... I can't help you. I wanted to at least help him."

"He was nothing like me, Charles. He was a terrible person, he only wanted to destroy people who were different from him."

"Listen to yourself, Erik. Do you hear your own words? Something bad happened to him, a group of people hurt him, and he hated them from then on, taking revenge. All it ever does is create more hate, more pain, and more suffering. I thought... I thought I had a chance to stop that cycle, at least in this one man."

"Why do you care so much? You're upset, you're broadcasting it, even if I didn't know you."

"I've seen that pain, that cycle. If seen it in my oldest, closest friend. And I want, yes, my instinct is, has always been, to try and fix things. And I can't fix you. I can't save you, I can't do anything but pray for you. And I don't pray. I see that, I see that in this man, in other men, in people all across the world, and all I can see is you. I can't not love them. Because I love you."


	6. Chapter 6

1

It's been a long time since he's seen his friend, or even spoken to him. It's been years, and they just haven't happened to run into each other. They didn't exactly leave on bad terms, just not...really very enticing ones.

Today, he feels his friend in the background of his mind, it's like a warm shower after being in a snowstorm. It's not like they're even doing anything where they'd be likely to run into each other.

Touching Erik's mind, he gets surprise, and then warmth, "Charles, what are you doing here?"

"Getting supplies. Didn't have the proper equipment for training one of my students."

An amused felling, "what powers?"

"Control over radiation."

"Ironic."

Charles smiled, "a bit, yes. What brings you here?"

"A talk with someone, didn't go great, but didn't end in disaster either."

They don't even really talk about meeting, but the image of a place passes between them, a park they both saw on the way in. Charles gets there second, Erik is sitting on a bench, waiting. Charles heads over, Erik is looking... well, very nice indeed. They don't stay at the park for very long.

Though by the time they get to a hotel, Erik seems somewhat pale, and on the way down the hall, he half collapses against a wall, breathing heavily. Charles is more than a little worried, "Erik, what's wrong?"

"Just haven't been feeling well. Light-headed, give me a minute."

Charles nods, but the sweat sheening his friend's face makes him rather disinclined to believe that Erik is being completely truthful with him. On the other hand, Erik does straighten, and he looks better, following Charles into the room.

Sitting on the bed, Charles watches Erik dump his bag, and then his shirt. The other man sits beside him, and Charles can't help but smile as they kiss. It's so very nice, being with Erik again. He slides his hand around Erik's neck, then frowns, and pulls away, placing his free hand on Erik's forehead, "you're running a fever."

"I'm fine, Charles."

Charles was about to protest further, but then Erik was on top of him, and the other man's body was so very solid, and his hands were insistent, strong.

It was heaven, the heat emanating from Erik's body soon got lost in the heat they built between them. Until the point when he sort of passed out on top of Charles, shivering, breath coming hard in the crook of Charles's neck.

Charles pressed two fingers to his friend's carotid, his pulse was through the roof, and not because of anything fun, they hadn't gotten nearly that far. He heaved his friend's body off himself, and rolled onto his side, pressing his hand against the other mutant's too-warm chest, "Erik?"

He slid into his wheelchair, and went to the bathroom, filling two cups with cool water, and gabbing the washcloth off the rack. Lifting his friend's feet onto a pillow, he wet the washcloth, and pressed it against Erik's forehead.

Slowly, Erik came around, eyes reluctantly blinking open, not focusing for a moment, then finding Charles. He rubbed at his face, groggily, and slowly sat up, the washcloth falling into his lap. Charles picked it up, and laid it against the back of Erik's neck, "welcome back."

Erik raised a hand awkwardly to his forehead, he still seemed somewhat woozy, he tilted sideways, against Charles's side. Charles gripped his arm, "easy. Maybe you should lie down."

Erik nodded, and let Charles guide him back.

Erik's will is so strong, sometimes, Charles supposes, his body just can't keep up with that. He must have been fighting this for at least hours, if not days. Charles laid down beside his friend, and gently drew Erik towards him, until the other man was curled with his head right over Charles's heart, and an arm wrapped around his waist, his knee pressed against Charles's hip.

"Why do you always have to push yourself so hard? I worry about you."

"Because I'm fighting a war, Charles. I don't get to take breaks just because I'm not feeling well."

"You collapsed. Isn't it dangerous? You falling asleep in our hotel room is one thing, but what if you collapsed in a fight?"

"I knew I would be fine."

"But you weren't."

"I would have rested on the way back. I would have been fine by the time I needed to be."

Charles sighed, and pulled the blanket up over both himself and his friend, rather angrily, "it's not okay, Erik."

Erik raised his head, just an inch or two above Charles's face, breath hot against his lips, "you're not angry I'm fighting. You don't like it, but you understand."

"You're... I don't understand why you don't take care of yourself."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because... I wish you cared about yourself as much as I care for you."

"Charles, you're calling the kettle black, a bit."

"I know. That doesn't stop me from wanting you to be well."

Erik smiled, and kissed him, gently, lips warm, and slightly damp, against his own skin.

They slept, Charles woke to Erik moving around, more than once, and by around five am, Erik was sitting off the side of the bed, miserable, head in his hands, Charles rubbing his back. The sun wasn't really up yet, though the sky outside the window was becoming a dim shade of yellowish-grey.

Erik groaned, rocking back and forth slightly. Charles wrapped an arm around, pressing his hand against Erik's chest, "shhh. Easy, just breathe. Take a breath."

Erik did, shakily, then another, and another. He leaned back against Charles's chest, breathing hard.

"Okay...you're okay."

Erik laughed, shakily, "who are you trying to convince?"

Charles smiled, but he was more scared than anything else. He'd seen his friend emotionally worked up, and exhausted, but never ill like this. Charles had pretty much always been the one getting hurt, and sick, and crashing into trees and getting stuck in a wheelchair.

Erik stood, leaning against the wall right beside the window. Charles leaned back on his palms, watching the other man, "if you fall, I can't help you."

That got him a slight smile, "I know. I won't fall."

He wavered slightly, Charles raised an eyebrow, "you sure about that?"

Erik nodded, "mostly. Anyway, I need to pee."

Charles laughed, quietly, watching his friend walk around the bed and into the bathroom. A few moments later, he heard a flush, and then a loud sound, not a crash, but certainly worrying. He scooted over to the other side of the bed, and into the wheelchair. By the time he got into the hall, Erik was sitting on the floor, gripping the sink to steady himself.

Charles leaned forwards, elbows on his knees, "oh, Erik... what am I supposed to do with you?"

The other man smiled, a little, "not feel responsible for me?"

Charles shook his head, "I can't do that. I know it annoys you, and I know it's a flaw. But I can't not."

Erik sighed, "I know. It's annoying, but you wouldn't be you if you weren't stupid."

Charles laughed, really, really laughed. It had been much too long since he had. Erik grinned in reply.


	7. Chapter 7

1Tea. He's miserable, and so dizzy he can't walk, and the only other person around is, while extremely well meaning, and, company-wise, about the only person he would want with him, also happens to be confined to a wheelchair. And Charles brings him tea. Earl Grey with cream and sugar, and wets a washcloth, and gently wipes the sweat from his forehead with it, while he drinks the tea.

He leans against Charles's shins, a tiny bit bothered by the atrophy he could feel through the slacks. It was, just the tiniest bit, his fault. Not that Charles would ever blame him, or anyone. He groans, and puts his hand to his head, which really, honestly feels like its about to split right down the middle.

Charles started moving his fingertips in gentle circles over Erik's temples, "shhh. Just relax. If you can get back to the bed, I can help you more."

"I don't want you in my head, Charles."

"That's not what I meant."

He looked up at his friend, blinking miserably, "it's kind of moot."

"Can't make it?"

"Don't think I can even stand. Way too dizzy."

"I can help. Actually, you can help. You're powers are working, right?"

"I'd be kind of in trouble if they stopped working just because I had a cold."

"You don't have a cold, you have the flu, at the very least."

"Regardless, yes, they are working."

"Scoot forward."

Erik frowned, but did, missing the warmth of his friend at his back, even if the form made him feel a little sick in the pit of his stomach. Charles moved out of the chair, lifting himself down to the floor, and gripping Erik's shoulder, "okay. Just, climb up in there, and send it back when you're on the bed."

Erik stared at his friend. Earnest blue eyes, and a slightly receding hairline made less obvious by the slightly longer than average brown hair. But Charles would be more upset if they remained stuck in the bathroom, so he shakily crawled to the chair, gripped the edge of the seat. Charles braced himself against the wall, and pushed, Erik blinked, at the force with which he was propelled upwards. Charles was strong, quite a bit stronger than he'd been when Erik had met him.

He managed to get himself turned around properly in the seat, and look down at the other mutant. Charles sat against the wall, grinning, arms folded, "bit odd, that."

Miserable, and guilt-provoking, was more like it, but he forced a smile, and Charles had promised not to pry. He pushed against the magnetism in the air, forcing the wheels to turn–and promptly bumped into the doorway. Charles laughed, Erik glared, and tried again. When he was out of Charles's sight, he stopped, and looked down. He was too big, for one thing, the chair was the right size for Charles's smaller build. But he touched the metal grip, the smooth, polished surface cold against his hand.

He sort of crawled onto the bed, and sent the wheelchair back to the bathroom, though he couldn't see around the corner to send it through the doorway. Charles's head, and torso poked out, and he pushed himself up and into the chair with a quick, easy, practiced motion, then disappeared, and reappeared with a glass of water wedged between his legs, as he pushed himself over to the bed, "here. You're bound to be dehydrated."

Erik knew he'd felt worse, by a lot, but it had been a very long time, and this was still a pretty terrible feeling. He couldn't not admit that he loved Charles, he'd never said it out loud, but it had been rather clear from the start. And he was responsible, Charles had even said so. And, yes, he knew, Charles had said whatever he could think of to make Erik not kill McTaggert, that in all likelihood he had meant nothing of the sort, and in fact had said not moments later, that it was no-one's fault.

But if it were anyone's, it was definitely Erik's. And generally someone getting shot was someone's fault.

His vison was spinning, and blurring, he couldn't even make out his friend's face, as the other mutant gently held the cup to his lips, "easy, Erik. You're worked up, what's wrong? Are you in pain?"

He gripped the front of his friend's shirt, and pulled them together, hiding his face in Charles's shoulder, "I'm so sorry."

Charles gently pushed him off, "Erik, you aren't making any sense. There's nothing to apologize for. Are you alright? Can you understand what I'm saying?"

He couldn't respond, the whole world was swirling, confusing, he could barely make sense of Charles's words. He felt Charles's touch in his mind, did not have the forethought to say no. He was scared, and confused, and if he'd been thinking more clearly, he would have said no so Charles's wouldn't find the guilt.

But he wasn't, and before that even occurred to him, he'd let Charles in, and closed his eyes.

Dimmly, as he heard Charles calling for an ambulance, he realized that this really wasn't a logical time for this much guilt, that it had to be how sick he was, messing with how he was thinking. But the clarity required for that sort of introspection lasted only a brief moment, and the next thing he really knew, he was in an ambulance, and Charles was holding his hand. He closed his eyes, letting Charles know mentally that he was making more sense, before allowing himself to lose consciousness once more.


	8. Chapter 8

1Waking up, he doesn't immediately know where he is, his eyes are stuck shut, he has to raise a hand to rub at them. In fact, it's the smell, that gets to him fist. Disinfectant, chemical. He snaps his eyes open, tries to get off the bed, but he's far too weak, and far too dizzy. Hands grab him, he starts to really freak out, but then, "Erik! Erik, it's me, you're safe. I promise, you're safe."

"Hospital."

"You had meningitis, you were going to die."

"Get me out."

He sinks down onto the bed, but only because he has no choice. Charles hits the page button, Erik looks at him, knowing he hasn't been betrayed, but feeling miserable that his friend brought him here, of all places.

"You weren't just going to die, before that, you would have gone blind, deaf, and lost your powers."

He's less mad, and Charles has pulled himself up onto the bed, and is now holding him, and he's very slightly less upset. The doctors don't want to let him go, it's too soon, he's far too sick, still. Charles makes them.

They are right, he can barely sit by himself. They get into a cab in front of the hospital, the cabbie stuff's Charles's chair in the trunk, and Erik curls on the back seat, his head in Charles's lap. He doesn't know anything after that.

The next time he wakes up, he's still in a bed, but this time, it's an actual bed bed, in a house. The air is warm, and kind of humid, but not too bad. He looks around, and blinks, when he sees Mystique there.

"What happened?"

"Charles found me, told me what had happened. He couldn't make sure you'd be okay, alone. For one thing, he needed to sleep, which is what he's doing now."

Erik rubbed at his face, sitting up. He felt a lot better, now. He looked at her, "how long was I out?"

"Four days. I've only been here the last two. I can wake him, if you'd like."

He nodded, she left.

She came back, with a sleepy Charles, still in his nightclothes, "hello. Are you feeling better?"

Erik nodded, "yes."

Mystique threw up her hands, "dear lord, just kiss already."

They stared at her, "you knew?"

She looked at Charles, "you guys aren't exactly quiet. And my room was next door to yours."

Erik could have sworn that Charles was _embarrassed_.

"I can't believe you knew, Raven..."

"You two were even more obvious than Darwin and Havock."

She walked out, shaking her head.

Charles sitting beside him was nice. The other mutant's body head mixed with his, warming them both. Charles played with his hair, and kissed him, worry making him a bit more touchy than usual.

"Are you mad at me?"

Erik looked at his friend, surprised, "no."

"You're upset."

No question. Erik must be broadcasting. He immediately shut that down, "I'm not mad at you. Nothing of the sort."

He was worried, scared, even, about what he knew Charles had seen in his mind. It had been muddled, and more all-consuming because of the fever, but the guilt, and misery had been real, and Charles would have known that.

"Erik... if... are you upset that I was in your mind?"

"Not that you were in it."

Charles gently kissed the top of his head, "what I saw."

"Yes."

"I'm not...mad. I have no anger about it at all. I only... you thought it was such a terrible thing. But you never told me...you never acted like..."

Erik stared at him, "god, Charles, it doesn't make you less attractive to me. Just the opposite, you're strong, and you don't let anything get to you, that's really, really attractive."

"Then why...?"

"Because you've been in pain. Physical pain, and had problems, and you've had to be that strong. I never wanted you to have to be strong like that. It's my fault you've had those challenges, it's my fault you've been in pain..."

Charles must not have thought before he did it–or possibly he didn't realize he was even doing it. Warmth like from the sun, and strong, almost overwhelming memories. Nothing specific, he wasn't trying to make a point. But...it did let Erik know that anger was not one of the things Charles felt towards him. Not by a long shot.


	9. Chapter 9

1Charles is missing. This is, after nearly three quarters of an hour of pressing for his friend's whereabouts, the answer he gets. He doesn't blame the kid, just worries. He reaches out, screaming to nothing in his mind. Charles touches his mind, but won't tell him where he is, Erik pushes, until, finally, Charles admits that he's hiding from his own students, and says he'll let Erik in, but no-one else.

Erik tries to communicate that he's, well, rather worried by that, but Charles closes him off, leaving him with only the name of a hotel, and a room number. He goes there, and knocks on the door, repeatedly. Finally, he hears Charles in his mind, saying to let himself in. He manipulates the mechanism in the lock, and opens the door. There's two beds, Charles is on one of them, under the covers, not much of him really visible.

Erik moves to the side of his friend's bed, "I need your help. But... are you alright?"

Charles lies still for a moment, then digs his way out from his mountain of blankets, looking miserably at Erik, wheezing slightly. His eyes and nose are all red, there's snot on his upper lip, and his hair, starting to recede at a frankly rather alarming rate, is completely soaked with sweat. Erik grabs tissues, and wipes away the snot, "you look terrible. And your breathing doesn't sound much better."

"I'm allergic..."

"To what? Air?"

"One of my new students. Needed to get away to recover...don't know what I'm going to do."

Erik stared at him for a long, long moment. Then, slowly, he started to laugh. He gripped Charles's arm, "god help you, Charles."

Charles managed a small, relatively false smile, but followed it up by dropping his head back into the pillow. Erik rubbed at his back, as he started coughing, hard, "I need your help talking to a diplomat."

"Hank will know if we can help."


	10. Chapter 10

1The battle was already over, by the time Erik's team got there. The landscape was destroyed, the buildings nearby demolished. A couple of burned husks of trees still smoldered, and soft shapes littered the ground. The police, and military were standing back, not certain it was yet safe to step forward. Standing there, they looked across the destruction. He looked at Mystique, she swallowed, and they started to cross a swath of burned grass and bushes, the ashes crunching beneath their feet, soot coating their shoes.

It didn't take him long to find his friend, because, thank god, Charles was awake enough to tell him where he was. Mystique helped Havoc to stand, as Erik lifted Charles. The rest of his team went through, finding the living, closing the eyes of the dead. The opposing side had fled, leaving only their dead. Other than the mental touch telling him where to look, Charles was completely silent, only gripping Erik's shirt.

Moving Charles's team, all injured and some dead, onto the blackbird, Erik felt sick to his stomach. If they had arrived in time, they would have been on the side that had done this.

Mystique went to the pilot's seat, and started up the engines. Erik went to the back, where the benches for use with the jump door lined the two sides of the fuselage, setting Charles down on one of the cushioned seats, sitting on the floor beside him.

They took off, and, slowly, after a long while, Charles looked at him. He swallowed, "Charles..."

"Not today. I know, believe me, I am very painfully aware. But not today."

Erik nodded, and gripped his friend's hand, "okay."

There was no way they could keep doing this. If they kept having this relationship, and one day their teams did face off...they would risk their own lives, and the lives of everyone they were responsible for. They both knew that. But Charles was right. Today, tonight...they could put it off, for just one more day.


End file.
